


Memories

by SkyFireForever



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Reincarnation, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Paris Soares' relationship with memories was always a complicated one, as his head was filled with memories that were his, but weren't those of Paris Soares. He had memories of lives he had lived before, countless of them, all of them experienced with the same four people. As Paris Soares, he has made it his mission to find the friends he had lived his lives with and discover why they come back again and again, but he may not be prepared for the truth.(A rewrite)





	1. Prologue: Paris Soares

Paris Soares had an interesting relationship with memories. His head was full of them. Memories of growing up, of playing with trains and dinosaur toys when he was young. He had memories of himself as a small, ginger child being raised by his father; Michael Soares. Memories of his past experiences, like everyone else. However, he had more memories than just those of Paris Soares. 

He had memories belonging to Felix Asmr of running away from home at the age of seventeen in 1900’s Russia; memories of Esmeralda Lunes begging on the streets of England in 1623; memories of Roni Kobler struggling to find food for her younger brothers in the cold winters of a poverty stricken land. Paris had the memories of hundreds of people who had lived hundreds of lives floating around in his head. He had the memories of different people with different pasts and experiences, all of them his.

Paris had lived hundreds of times with hundreds of different names and identities. He didn’t always remember the lives that came before. Often times, he wasn’t even aware that there had been previous lives.. He only remembered when it was his turn to remember. Remembering was a strange experience each time he did so. Having to sift through the multitude of lifetimes in his head seemed nearly impossible at times, with so many memories that gathered together or confused themselves with each other. It wasn’t as if he remembered every single event that happened in every single one of his lives.That would be impossible to navigate. He simply remembered what he could when he could. However, there were certain memories that seemed to repeat themselves across every life.

He always met the same four people. They had different names, different appearances, and different pasts, but they were always  _ them _ . They always seemed to find each other. They were his friends every time, always had some form of strong bond. Even when Paris didn’t remember them, he always felt the connection they shared.

Paris gave them nicknames, to identify them across lives. Flower was the bright and optimistic one in every life, the one who always saw the beauty in everything. Roots was always the one who held the group together, who never left anyone behind. Branch was always the one who was firm in their beliefs and couldn’t easily be changed. Leaf was always so curious and yearned to soak up as much information as possible. Together, they were much like a tree; only able to thrive when put together. Alone, none of them had the means to survive. 

It seemed that in every life, one of the five remembered the past while the rest did not. Paris wasn’t sure how long ago he had made this revelation, but the evidence pointed to that conclusion. When Paris remembered the lives in which he was unaware of his past lives, there was always one of the group who would say things that hinted at the past, things that went unnoticed when Paris didn’t know what to look for. There was always one who seemed to want to bring them all together, who wanted to unite them. Always only one. It seemed that only one was permitted to remember in a life.

It went in cycles, always the same order in which they remembered. Paris always remembered in the life after Roots did. Flower always remembered after him, followed by Branch, who was always followed by Leaf. The same order time after time. 

Paris was fascinated by the previous lives he had led and by the friends to whom he was connected. He could never remember how this cycle had began or the first life in which he and his friends had met. He never knew how or why this happened to them, but he was desperate to find out. He had made it this life’s mission to find the rest of his friends and discover how and why the cycle began. He was determined to find an end to it.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun filtered through the blinds hanging over the window in Paris’ room. The ginger remained blissfully asleep, hugging a pillow close to his chest. His peace was not to last; however, as he was soon awakened by the blaring sound of his alarm. His eyes flew open with a start and a strangled noise of surprise tore itself from his throat as he tried to process where the sound was coming from. He made an attempt to kick away the blankets and sheets that had twisted around his legs, trapping him in bed. He blindly thrashed around in search of his phone, groping through the tangled mess of fabric. His fingers managed to wrap themselves around the rectangular shape of his cell phone and he let out a triumphant grunt as his thumb hit the snooze button. 

He yawned and buried his face back into the pillow, whining into the plush material. He had been having the most wonderful dream. He tried to grasp at some memory of what exactly the dream had been, but all recollection was just out of his reach. He eventually gave up on remembering any of it and forced himself to sit up, struggling to untangle himself. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light filtering in through the window. He sat still for a moment before his alarm went off again, the noise trying to scream Paris into full wakefulness. 

Paris hit the dismiss button before forcing himself to his feet. He stretched before remembering why exactly his alarm had roused him. His face instantly lit up and all thoughts of sleep vanished entirely. His exhaustion was replaced by excitement as he flung his blinds open to allow more light to pour into the room. It was the first day of school after summer vacation and Paris couldn’t be looking forward to it more. First days of anything meant new people, which meant a higher possibility of Paris reuniting with someone from the past. Of course, it was entirely possible that Paris wouldn’t meet anyone from before, but he was nothing if not an optimist. It had to happen eventually, so there was no reason it couldn’t be today. 

He dressed himself in a blur, paying no attention to what he was throwing on. It probably looked absolutely ridiculous and he doubted that a single article of clothing matched another, but he didn’t particularly care. His sense of style was practically nonexistent. He went to the bathroom and briefly ran his hands through his short hair so it wouldn’t look like he’d just woken up. He went through the rest of his routine as quickly as he could manage before making his way downstairs, skipping several steps at a time until he reached the bottom. 

Paris poured himself a bowl of dry cereal and started scarfing it down, not even taking the time to sit at the table. He stood at the counter as he shoveled spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth as quickly as possible.

“Whoa, slow down, there.” A deep voice remarked from behind him. “Are you training for a cereal eating contest?” Paris looked up to see his father standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Paris smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “No, not quite.” He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Maybe next year, though.” He joked.

His father laughed and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Paris never failed to be amused by his father’s distaste for coffee. “You’re really in such a rush for your first day, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning against the counter. “Were you even planning on telling me goodbye?” He stuck his lip out in a dramatic pout as he acted offended by Paris planning to leave without telling him. 

“Of course I was!” Paris said quickly, setting his spoon down in his bowl. The truth was that he had completely forgotten about his father in his hurry to get to school. He wasn’t too keen on letting his father know that, though. “Sorry, I was just really excited. First day of senior year and all that.” He quickly explained, the tips of his ears growing pink.

“I’m excited for you.” His father admitted, patting Paris on the back and setting the glass down. “You’re so grown up.” He stared at his son with a hint of sadness in his gaze.

“Aw, Dad.” Paris wrapped his arms around his father. “I’m not that grown up,” He insisted. “I’m still just your little kid.” 

Paris’ father chuckled sadly and held his son close. “You’re hardly little anymore. Look at you; you’re bigger than me.” 

It was true that Paris had long since outgrown his father, towering above the man by several inches. Paris blushed and simply shrugged, feeling embarrassed by his height. “Doesn’t stop me from being your little kid.” He insisted, checking the time before scooping the last few spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. “Sorry, Dad, but I’ve got to go. I’ll see you after school. Love you!” He gave his father one last, brief hug before grabbing his bag and dashing out the door.

Paris loved the early morning hours, when the sun was just beginning to peek over the trees and bathe the world in a warm glow. It wasn’t too hot or too cold or too bright or too dark. It was perfect. It was a perfect day and Paris couldn’t help but think that the weather was a sign of the good fortune to come. He strolled down the street with a huge grin across his face, ready for anything and everything. Nothing could possibly go wrong for him, he was certain of it. 

“Hey, flame head!” Paris stopped in his tracks and groaned overdramatically as he recognized a familiar voice. He turned around just in time to see Bibiana raise her hand to slap his arm. “What, you weren’t going to wait for me?” She asked, crossing her arms and scowling at him. 

“Of course I was!” Paris lied, putting his hands up in surrender. “You’d have my head if I didn’t.” 

“Exactly.” Bibiana grinned triumphantly. “You can't go anywhere without me.” She jabbed her thumb into her chest. Bibiana was Paris’ closest friend and the only one of his friends from the past that he’d met so far. They had met in kindergarten, after she had yelled at some second grade kid for stealing the toys he had been playing with. It hadn’t taken him long to identify her as the friend he called Roots. She was a short girl with a large frame and long, curly, black hair that Paris had always thought was absolutely beautiful. She could be rude at times, but anyone close to her knew that she never meant her playful insults or snide remarks; it was just how she showed affection. They two of them had always gone to the same schools and Bibiana would always walk with Paris. It was a tradition between the two of them. 

Paris laughed and nodded. “This year won’t be any different.” He assured, patting his friend’s shoulder. “I’d probably still get lost without you here to guide me.” 

Bibiana snorted. “Yeah, just like in third grade.” She elbowed him in the stomach before continuing to walk towards their school. 

Paris flushed at the memory. “I’m directionally challenged!” He attempted to defend himself, following after Bibiana. “I was like eight.” 

“And you got lost all the time.” Bibiana pointed out with a teasing smirk. “Poor widdle Paris.” She mocked in a baby voiced, looking up at Paris with large, pouting lips. She was clearly enjoying teasing him, as she usually did. 

Paris laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was a clueless child.” He agreed as they walked, the school coming into view. “I’ve gotten better, though.”

“I absolutely do not believe that.” Bibiana snorted. “You’d lose your own shadow if it didn’t follow you around.” She entered the school as Paris held the front door open for her. Other students were filing into the hallways, most of them loudly greeting each other and catching one another up on the events of summer vacation. Paris couldn’t stand the noise that crowded him. “Anyway, I trust that you won’t get lost on your way to homeroom?” Bibiana teased. “Who do you have?”

Paris blinked, having completely forgotten that school actually had a process to it. “Oh!” He scrambled to take off his backpack and search through it for his schedule. “Uh, Mr. Valear.” He answered after scanning the page. “You?” 

“Mrs. Valear, actually.” Bibiana said with a roll of her eyes. “Gross.” Bibiana hated that there were two teachers at their school who were married. She firmly believed that if two teachers were going to be married, they shouldn’t teach at the same school. Paris wasn’t exactly sure why that was. He thought that Mr and Mrs Valear were extremely cute together, and he wasn’t the only one. The Valears seemed like the type of old, married couple who would take walks in the park together and feed the birds. They obviously loved each other to death and Paris couldn’t be more excited to actually have Mr. Valear’s class this year. In the past, he’d taken Mrs. Valear’s math classes, but Mr. Valear only taught English classes that were on a senior level. 

Paris smiled at Bibiana after rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How dare people actually be in love,” He mocked before zipping his bag and throwing it back over his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll probably see you at lunch?” 

“Yeah, probably.” Bibiana shrugged. “If we don’t have any other classes together until then.” She looked over her schedule and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll catch you later, you dork.” She saluted him before taking off towards her class, Paris smiling after her. He looked down at his schedule and started towards his homeroom, ready for the day to truly begin. 


End file.
